


Overflow

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Shameless [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 20:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11631060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: “Think about it, though.” Setting his mug on the table, Castiel shoved Dean’s chair to face him, Dean’s heart immediately in his throat. Castiel’s hands gripped the metal back of his chair, their foreheads close, Castiel’s knees parting his own. “Unsightly as you may think it is, it could be a new experience for you. I’d be with you the whole time.” He ducked his head, lips pressed against Dean’s jaw, collar, up to his chin, open mouthed and obscene. “It’s up to you. You can decide in a week.”But a week passes, and still, Dean is unsure. No matter how much research he does or how many embarrassing visits he makes to every porn and fetish site known to man, he still can’t wrap his brain around it. No matter how many times Castiel assures him that he’ll be fine, that in his care, nothing could possibly hurt him, the idea of… sounding just seems like torture.





	Overflow

Dean’s been putting it off for weeks, on the grounds that it’s unsanitary and the idea of something going inside of him—and specifically not in his ass—makes his ears heat and his stomach flip. “I don’t understand your obsession with it,” Dean mentioned one morning over breakfast, during the rare five minutes between Dean waking up and Sam barging in smelling like a failed attempt at deodorant. “I’ve watched the videos, man, there’s nothing hot there.”

“Because you’re thinking about it objectively,” Castiel shot back, leaning against the kitchen counter. “All you’re thinking of is how it looks, not how it feels.”

“Because you’re not supposed to put metal rods in your dick, Cas,” Dean hushed, looking over his shoulder. “I get that you’re not human and all—”

“Think about it, though.” Setting his mug on the table, Castiel shoved Dean’s chair to face him, Dean’s heart immediately in his throat. Castiel’s hands gripped the metal back of his chair, their foreheads close, Castiel’s knees parting his own. “Unsightly as you may think it is, it could be a new experience for you. I’d be with you the whole time.” He ducked his head, lips pressed against Dean’s jaw, collar, up to his chin, open mouthed and obscene. “It’s up to you. You can decide in a week.”

But a week passes, and still, Dean is unsure. No matter how much research he does or how many embarrassing visits he makes to every porn and fetish site known to man, he still can’t wrap his brain around it. No matter how many times Castiel assures him that he’ll be fine, that in his care, nothing could possibly hurt him, the idea of… sounding just seems like torture.

It doesn’t help that no matter how handsy they get, Castiel still refuses to touch him, leading to a week-long drought that has Dean wanting and needy in a way he hasn’t been since high school. He can’t even jerk off in the shower without thinking about Castiel’s words, and the phantom sensation of what it would feel like, to have Castiel’s mouth on him, fingers pinching him open, sliding a thick rod inside and jerking him off like that.

Admittedly once, he nearly passes out on the shower floor.

Castiel doesn’t bring it up again until late Friday, long after Sam has gone to sleep and supposedly, Castiel had too. But Castiel is awake in his room, browsing something on the tablet in his hands, dressed in only his underwear.

“I want you to,” Dean admits, closing and locking the door behind him, like anyone would even bother to walk in on them anyway. Castiel’s door isn’t exactly close to theirs, and Castiel must have had a reason for choosing one down an entirely different wing. Dean thinks, belatedly, that their escapades may be why.

“You’re sure?” Castiel asks, and Dean nods, all he knows how to do. He even prepped for the occasion, did everything the websites told him to do, and like hell he’s walking out of this now, after all the work he’s done. “Then come here.”

It feels oddly clinical, the way Dean dresses down and lays lengthwise along the mattress while Castiel rummages through a drawer to pull out an ornate brown box. The interior is padded in red velvet, and inside are three sounds of varying thicknesses, all with a ball at the end. “How long have you had that?” Dean asks, parting his legs as Castiel kneels on the bed, settling between his knees.

“A few weeks,” Castiel shrugs, like ordering sounds off the internet is a totally normal thing for a man to do. “I’ve already tested them myself.”

Dean can’t help but smirk, the image of Castiel jerking off in his room sending a rush of blood to his cock. “And? You like it?”

Leaning over, Castiel pulls a washrag and a large bottle of lube from the bedside table. “It has its perks,” he says, nonchalant, but absolutely smug about it. _Oh, it’s on_.

Getting Dean hard doesn’t take as long as he expected, Castiel’s hands doing some of the work for him, wet fingers gliding gently up his cock, only to fist him on the downstroke, never quite the same rhythm. He pays special attention with his mouth, tonguing along the slit of Dean’s cock with more enthusiasm than usual. Dean doesn’t mind regardless, not as long as Castiel keeps doing that, one hand tugging at his balls, the other just tormenting him, kisses drawing more blood to the surface, until Dean’s practically leaking and moaning in his grasp. Dean really should’ve accepted it sooner, for the handjob alone.

“You’re tense,” Castiel says and pulls away, sinuous and methodical. Dean just lowers his hips back to the mattress and runs a hand over his chest, down to his stomach. “You should relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Dean retorts, and Castiel chuckles. “You don’t think I’m relaxed?”

Castiel pats Dean’s thigh, a little too hard. “You’re clenching. It’ll hurt if you fight it.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but still he assents, resting his arms behind his head while Castiel takes one of the sounds from the box, the thinnest of the set. For once, Dean thanks him for forethought. “This better be good,” Dean grumbles, earning another swat, this one leaving a red mark. “Maybe you should just spank me instead. Kinda like that.”

“I’ll never understand your fascination with pain.” Again, Castiel uncaps the lube and pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing it in thick onto the sound. “You deserve nice things, Dean. You deserve to feel good.”

Somehow, naked with a massive hard on with his equally almost-naked friend between his legs, that manages to embarrass Dean down to his core. “Less talking,” Dean huffs, just as Castiel takes his cock in hand, stroking him a few times for good measure. “You’re the one who wanted this so bad.”

“Yes, but you want it to.” And, admittedly, despite how weird it seems, Dean does. Bad. With two fingers, Castiel rubs the head of his cock, running the blunt edge of the sound along the slit, just barely dipping in; Dean’s stomach swoops just watching it. “Yes or no?”

“God, yes,” Dean begs.

It’s… weird. That’s the only word he can use to describe it, both from watching Castiel pinch him open and slide the rod inside, and the sensation of it moving, gliding in until the ball catches and stills. All the while, Castiel holds him still, not really moving but equally coaxing. Though, he doesn’t expect how it feels when Castiel begins to jack him off, and it takes all of Dean’s strength to keep the sound inside, lifting and falling with every stroke. Impossibly, his blood rushes hotter, and Castiel has to hold Dean’s hips down with one hand before he does something drastic like thrust.

“More,” Dean pleads after a short minute, arm over his eyes. No doubt he’s flushed to his chest, and if Castiel notices his embarrassment, he doesn’t speak a word of it.

All Castiel does is pull the sound free, and Dean swears it feels like coming in slow motion. He moans until it’s gone, and in its place, Castiel slides another rod in, this one thicker, stretching him open wider than he’s ever been. “Oh, fuck,” he hisses and lets his hand drop, only to see Castiel mouthing at his shaft, sucking wet kisses along the length of him.

And it burns, a pleasant stretch and ache and makes him even harder, twitching against Castiel’s mouth. “Shit,” he breathes, just as Castiel pushes him down again, hand pressed flat over his belly, holding him still. Slowly, Castiel laps down to Dean’s balls, taking one into his mouth, and Dean nearly loses it. All at once, it’s too much and not enough, Castiel’s hands on him, holding him still, yet urging him to move, to thrust up into the circle of his hand. “Shit, I’m…”

“I can leave it in,” Castiel says, merely a suggestion, but in Dean’s lust-flooded brain, it sounds like the best idea in the world.

With Dean’s nod, Castiel resumes his kisses along Dean’s cock, tongue teasing his frenulum in fevered licks, breath warm against scalding skin. In some distant part of his brain, he realizes that this orgasm is different, prolonged in a way that should frighten him. The rest of him, though, doesn’t care. His hips twitch in Castiel’s hold until the claustrophobia sets in, and around the end of the sound, they both watch it bob, come flooding from his cock, sluggish and embarrassingly real.

Dean groans in the aftermath and collapses into the mattress, chest heaving, heart frantic—he did that. He actually did that, and Castiel helped. Castiel got him off with those come-soaked hands and that damn sound, and those beautiful, flushed-wet lips. No matter how gingerly Castiel pulls the sound free, Dean still twitches and writhes until it’s gone, more come spilling free, captured in Castiel’s hand.

“I think I have a problem,” Dean laughs, near hysteric, and wipes his eyes.

Castiel pats his thigh and shifts, weight settling at Dean’s side, and in the lamplight, Dean can see the tent in his boxers, obscenely wet around the head. If Castiel wanted, they could switch and Dean could try the sounds on him, could blow Castiel’s mind with just his tongue—but cleaning them doesn’t sound like an option, judging by the fervency of Castiel’s kiss or his moans against Dean’s lips, hand in his shorts. “Let me suck you off,” Dean says, nearly a beg, and grabs Castiel’s thigh, urging him forward.

“Hurry,” Castiel orders—Dean has never moved so fast in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear god, what happened to being a responsible adult. I need to edit and all I'm doing is writing hanky panky. Kinky hanky panky at that. Apparently I need a supervisor. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
